


The Girl Who Played With Explosives

by castielofasgard



Series: A Tale of Two Bombers [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dress-up in many different contexts, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Handcuffs, Hostage Situations, How many parties can these assholes attend?, Lots of shit blows up, M/M, More crazy missions, Polyamory, Things get a little kinky, This one's more action flick than romcom like the first one was tbh...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-17 17:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4675130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielofasgard/pseuds/castielofasgard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the escape of their previous target's companion, Pietro, Clint, and Natasha must hunt down the terrorist ring to prevent another bombing. All while juggling their new three way relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Domestic Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> well, I did say Pride and Punkass Terrorists would have a sequel eventually. I just didn't realize it would happen so soon. But I have no self control.

Life at Avengers Tower was much the same as it always had been. The team went about their daily lives – training, hanging out, disappearing for a few days at a time for whatever reason, using the information Clint and Pietro had gathered from their mission to hunt down the second bomber and her boss. There was one pretty big change around the place, however: Clint and Pietro’s relationship. 

Since the team had apparently seen it coming, it wasn’t that much to get used to (apart from the near constant PDA that they kept walking in on), but for both of them it was certainly new. Pietro had never had an actual romantic relationship before, never had someone love him the way Clint did, and the whole experience was one that he could hardly believe was real. Clint on the other hand was still slightly baffled by the fact that he now had a boyfriend _and_ a girlfriend, and everything that came along with that. It was working better than he had ever dreamed. Of course, their little three-way romance had led to Pietro and Natasha becoming very good friends, which then inevitably led to them teaming up to tease Clint. He really should have seen that one coming, they both teased him so much on their own, it was only natural. He didn’t mind though (in fact he kind of liked it).

 

***

 

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun was out, Clint had a great big mug of coffee, and Pietro was sitting at the kitchen table wearing just his boxers and one of Clint’s t-shirts. Clint poured himself a bowl of cereal and joined Pietro, Sam, and Tony at the table. They all sat in silence for a while, Clint smiling fondly at Pietro over the top of his coffee cup, then Pietro stood up and took his dishes to the kitchen. He came back and gave Clint a kiss on the top of the head.

“I’m gonna go shower. Feel free to join me when you’re done,” he said.

He let his hand brush across Clint’s back as he walked away, casting a little smirk back over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall. Evidently he’d sensed Clint gazing at his ass in those slightly too tight boxers.

“That boy has got no shame,” Sam chuckled.

“Naw, he just knows he’s got a great ass,” said Clint. “But yeah, he’s got no shame too.”

“What is that even like?” Tony asked.

“Huh?”

“ _Him_. I mean... Does he fuck as fast as he does everything else?” said Tony. 

Sam choked on his coffee.

“Y’know, actually he doesn’t,” Clint said casually. “I mean, I bet he could if I asked him to. Might not be able to walk for a week afterward though... still, might be worth it. Thanks for the suggestion, Stark.”

Tony only stared at him in surprise for a moment before recovering.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, taking up the same casual tone as Clint. “If you can’t walk right tomorrow morning, I guess I’ll know it worked.”

“Who said we’d be waiting ‘til tonight?” said Clint with a smirk.

“Oh God...” Sam groaned. “I haven’t had enough coffee for this conversation...”

 

***

 

It was late afternoon, and Pietro and Clint were supposed to be training. To be fair, they _had_ started out training, but had then inevitably ended up with Clint flat on his back, Pietro straddling him and grinding on him through his sweatpants as they made out. 

“Fuckin’ ride me already, would ya?” Clint moaned breathlessly.

“You’re so impatient,” Pietro teased.

“Oh that’s rich,” said Clint.

Pietro chose that moment to rub his ass against Clint’s hard-on, eliciting the most sinful moan.

“Barton? Maximoff?” Bruce’s voice echoed through the gym, and a moment later, he appeared around the corner. “Oh Jesus Christ...”

Pietro and Clint both looked up at him, their expressions somewhere between embarrassed, annoyed, and amused.

“You got something to say, Doc?” Clint asked.

“Yeah, Cap wants you guys upstairs, we’ve got a lead on your bomber friend,” said Bruce, awkwardly attempting to look anywhere but at the pair of them.

“Can we finish here first?” said Pietro.

“God, seriously? I have never met anyone so horny,” Bruce said exasperatedly.

“We can make it quick,” said Clint.

“Whatever. But I’m totally telling Tony that you guys have been screwing on the new gym floor,” Bruce called over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Oh, I’m sure he knows,” said Clint.

The gym doors swung shut again and Pietro grinned down at him.

“Now, where were we?” 

 

Ten minutes later, they staggered into Steve’s office, still sweaty and a little breathless. Steve raised an eyebrow at them but made no comment. Natasha, on the other hand, smirked knowingly from her seat on the edge of Steve’s desk.

“Glad you boys could make it,” she said.

“It was a close call,” said Pietro. “I had to catch a ride.”

Clint stifled a laugh.

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” said Steve quickly, though he looked like he was trying not to grin. “Banner probably already told you that we’ve got a lead on the bomber.”

“Yeah, he did,” said Clint. “What’ve we got on her?”

“One of her colleagues is meeting up with some undercover weapons dealer that Stark’s been keeping tabs on for the last few years. I need the three of you to be on the scene, monitoring the situation, maybe stepping in if necessary.”

“Where are they meeting?” Pietro asked.

“A nightclub in the center of Manhattan,” said Steve. “Our information tells us they’re scheduled to meet at eleven forty-five tonight, so I’d recommend getting there around eleven to scope the place out. I’ve already given Natasha the address. Here are the profiles of the dealer and the bomber’s colleague.”

He slid a couple files across the desk and Pietro and Clint each picked one up.

“Sounds pretty doable,” said Clint. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” Steve replied. “Oh, and don’t have too much fun tonight. You’re on a job, remember.”

“Don’t worry, Steve, I’ll keep these two party animals in line,” Natasha teased.


	2. Out On The Town

At about ten thirty, Pietro, Clint, and Natasha piled into the back of a taxi and gave the driver the address for the club. Natasha ended up squeezed into the middle seat since she was the smallest, which ended up being a pretty bad idea since she was wear a short, skin-tight dress that rode up the minute she scooted across the sticky leather seat. She spent about half the car ride to the club trying to fix it, elbowing Pietro and Clint several times in the process. 

“Jesus, Nat, cut it out,” Clint complained after receiving a particularly painful jab in the ribs. “You can fix it when we get there.”

“Sorry...” Natasha mumbled, folding her hands in her lap.

 

They arrived at the club a few minutes before eleven, paid the driver, and filed out onto the curb.

“So, uh... what exactly should I expect in there?” Pietro asked as they got in the line at the door.

“Oh shit, you’ve never been to a club, have you?” said Natasha.

“Well, I’ve never really had the occasion.”

“Okay, three general rules of a club,” Clint said. “One, it’s gonna be hella loud, so don’t bother trying to have a meaningful conversation with anyone. Two, the drinks are hella expensive so you won’t have to worry about getting drunk. And three, always keep track of your wallet.”

“Fourth rule,” Natasha added. “Don’t leave your drink unattended. Typically that’s strictly female advice, but you can never be too careful, especially when you’re pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Pietro smirked.

“Everyone thinks your pretty, hon,” said Clint. “That’s why you’ve gotta keep an eye out for creepers.”

Pietro must have looked rather alarmed because Natasha chuckled.

“Don’t worry, if any weirdos try and hit on you, Clint and I will save your ass,” she said.

“Thanks.”

They reached the bouncer and showed their IDs, then stepped inside. Clint had been right. It was extremely loud. The faint thumping of the bass that they’d heard out on the sidewalk multiplied exponentially the minute they walked through the doors. It was also hot, the air made humid from the sweat of dozens of people dancing and milling about.

“You two get a table, I’ll get the drinks,” said Natasha.

She walked away before either of them could respond.

“Okay, looks like we’re getting a table,” Clint said.

“That might be tricky...” said Pietro, glancing around at the crowded room.

“Oh wait, over there!” Clint said, pointing. “Quick, let’s grab it.”

“Well spotted, Hawkeye,” Pietro teased.

They made their way to the table and sat down, moving their chairs to the best positions for watching the room. A minute later, Natasha found them, three beer bottles in hand. She set them on the table and sat down.

“Any sign of our friends yet?” she asked.

“Nope,” said Clint, sipping his beer.

“Well, we’ve still got a while,” Natasha said. “Might as well get comfortable.”

 

They drank their beers slowly, making idle small talk as they scanned the room. At about eleven thirty, Clint kicked Pietro and Natasha under the table.

“Dealer just walked in,” he announced quietly, his voice barely audible over the blaring music.

“Keep an eye on him,” said Natasha.

“He’s got himself a stool at the bar,” said Clint. 

Pietro took a quick glance over his shoulder to see for himself. He was rather disliking the fact that his back was to the bar, but he wasn’t about to complain.

The final fifteen minutes before the meet-up time passed painfully slow. Pietro checked his watch – eleven forty-five at last – then looked back up to the door.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” said Clint.

“It’s _her_ ,” Pietro hissed, quickly hiding his face behind his hand very unsubtly.

“Who?” said Natasha.

“The bomber! Her partner must’ve not been able to make it,” said Pietro. “Clint, she’s gonna recognize us.”

“Shit, what do we do?” 

“Leave this to me,” said Natasha. “And Pietro, put your hood up, your hair is conspicuous.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just do it.”

Pietro put up his hood, still confused and more than a little panicked. Natasha stood up and went over to the bar.

“What is she doing?” Pietro asked.

“She’s... ordering a drink,” said Clint, looking baffled.

“What good is that gonna do?”

“Hell if I know. Your lady friend just got to the counter, she’s talking to the dealer.”

“She’s not my lady friend,” said Pietro. “What’s Tasha doing?”

Clint looked, if possible, even more baffled.

“Okay. Now she’s taking selfies with her drink.”

“Okay then... I’m just going to assume that since it’s Natasha, she knows what she’s doing.”

“Probably for the best,” said Clint.

“Now what’s happening?” Pietro asked.

“You are relentless.”

“Well, I can’t fucking see through the back of my head.”

“Okay, okay,” said Clint. “Well. Nat just spilled her drink. All over the bomber. Now she’s apologizing profusely. Trying to clean her up. Aaaaand now she’s just whisked her away to the ladies room.”

“Seriously?” said Pietro, chancing a glance back at the bar.

“You think I’m making this shit up?”

“She bought an eight dollar drink just to take a few pictures and spill it on the woman who tried to blow us up?”

“Like you said, it’s Natasha, it’s best we just assume she knows what she’s doing,” Clint said. “Oh, she’s coming back out, act casual.”

“I _am_ acting casual.”

Just then, Natasha returned.

“Let’s go, but don’t look like you’re in too much of a hurry and don’t look back at the bar,” she said quietly.

Pietro and Clint both stood up and followed her to the door and out onto the sidewalk. 

“So please tell me this whole thing wasn’t a complete flop,” Clint said.

“No, it wasn’t, but we’re not talking about it ‘til we get home,” said Natasha, hailing a cab.

The taxi pulled up to the curb and they piled in.

“Avengers Tower, please,” Natasha told the driver.

They pulled out onto the road and the driver glanced back at them in the rear view mirror.

“So, Avengers Tower? Which ones are you?” he asked.

“I’m Captain America,” Pietro replied.

Clint snorted.

“You ain’t fooling anyone, you’re the least American person in this car,” he said.

“It was worth a shot,” Pietro said with a shrug.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, sir, we’re on a mission, so we’d rather keep what we’ve been up to tonight quiet,” she said. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh yeah, of course,” said the driver. “Wouldn’t wanna get in the way of justice. Good luck with your mission though, ma’am.”


	3. Everyone Loves a Costume Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the horribly long-ass break between updates. as you may have noticed, i got a bit distracted by several other fic ideas. but we're back to this one now!

Once they got back to Avengers Tower, they went inside and up to the living room where the rest of the team was waiting.

“That was fast,” said Tony. “It’s barely past midnight.”

“There was a slight change of plans,” said Pietro, sprawling out in an empty seat.

“Yeah, Nat, you gonna tell us what the fuck that was about now?” Clint said, joining Pietro on the couch.

“Whoa, you’re not trying to say _Natasha_ screwed up a mission?” Bruce said incredulously.

“Who said anything about screwing up?” said Natasha.

She perched on the arm of the sofa and took her phone out of her bra.

“What? No pockets,” she said in response to several raised eyebrows.

“I get you,” said Wanda.

The two girls fist-bumped and Pietro and Clint rolled their eyes.

“ _Anyway_ ,” said Steve. “What happened?”

“Well, the bomber’s colleague didn’t show up,” said Natasha. “But the bomber came instead.”

“Shit, did she recognize you?” Sam asked, turning to Pietro and Clint.

“I don’t think she even saw us,” said Clint. “Nat distracted her pretty well. Still don’t know what you were doing though, babe.”

“I’m getting to it,” said Natasha. She unlocked her phone and clicked through a few things before continuing. “I managed to sneak some pictures of her and her contact, as well as the file he was giving her. I also found out her name when I took her to the bathroom to help wash the tequila out of her dress. Leah Stormfields. Not an alias, her ID was definitely real.”

She passed her phone to Steve so he could look at the pictures.

“You are incredible,” said Pietro, thoroughly impressed. 

“I’m good at pretending,” Natasha said humbly.

“But you’re actually definitely incredible,” said Clint. “And you also look really hot in that dress, which I didn’t get to tell you earlier.”

Natasha grinned.

“This file...” said Steve, zooming in on the picture and frowning. “It’s-”

“Not a file,” Natasha finished. 

“It’s not?” Pietro said.

“Nope. It’s a brochure,” said Natasha.

“For what?”

“An exclusive resort where there just so happens to be a huge Halloween party for a bunch of highly esteemed and very important guests,” Natasha said. “Look at the next picture, Steve.”

“Oh look, our bomber just got two tickets to the event,” said Steve in mock excitement.

“What do these terrorists have against parties and fancy hotels?” Pietro said.

“So,” Clint asked, turning to Tony. “D’you think the Avengers might be able to get ourselves invited?”

Tony smirked and pulled out his phone.

“Let’s find out,” he said.

They all sat quietly as he made the call.

“Hey, Mister Preston? Tony Stark here. I was wondering whether I might be able to get myself a few tickets for that excellent Halloween party you’re hosting. Oh, just me and some friends. Yes, those friends. No no, of course not, superheroes need some fun too, y’know. Okay, that’ll be fine. Thank you, sir, I’ll see you then.”

He hung up and tucked his phone back into his jacket pocket.

“So?” Pietro said.

“Better start planning your costumes, kids, ‘cause we’re going to a Halloween party,” said Tony.

“You got the tickets?” said Steve.

“No need to sound so surprised, Captain Obvious,” said Tony. “I could only score four though, so you’re all gonna have to duke it out for the three that aren’t mine.”

“Well, Nat got the information and this has kinda been Clint and Pietro’s mission since day one, so it’s only fair they got them,” said Sam.

“Fair enough,” Tony said. “Any objections? Good. No bloodshed then.”

“So what kind of Halloween party is this, exactly?” Clint asked. “Like, will it be frowned upon if I go as Edward Scissorhands or what?”

“This is a rich-folks’ Halloween party, Barton,” said Tony. “Do the math.”

“No Edward Scissorhands then?”

“Nope.”

“Aww...”

“So more like a masquerade or something?” said Natasha.

“Romanoff’s got the idea,” said Tony. “You dress up, but you make it classy.”

 

***

 

A few days later, Pietro and Clint wandered the aisles of a costume shop, trying to figure out what to wear to the party.

“Halloween isn’t really a big deal in Sokovia, and I never really got a chance to do anything for it anyway ‘cause I had to grow up at age ten,” said Pietro. 

“So it kinda sucks that your first real Halloween is gonna be spent in some lame-ass fancy costume with a bunch of snobs?” Clint said.

“Yeah, kinda,” Pietro admitted. “I mean, it’d be rather fun to dress up in a tacky costume and eat candy all night.”

“I’ll tell ya what. We’ll have our own Halloween,” said Clint. “We can wear whatever crazy costumes we want, eat lots of chocolate. It can be our pre-party.”

“I’d like that,” Pietro grinned.

“And hey, we’ve got some much higher quality handcuffs than those ones you’re fondling at home if you were wanting to try out some party games.”

Pietro blushed, accidentally knocking down the display of cheap plastic handcuffs he had been absentmindedly fidgeting with. He scrambled to hang them back on the rack, blushing even harder as he straightened up and noticed Clint smirking suggestively at him.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he said.

“Do you really think I’d be suggesting sexual experimentation if I wasn’t serious?” said Clint.

Pietro smirked.

“Well, if we’re gonna be using handcuffs, we might as well find some costumes to match.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

 


	4. The Pre-Party

 

It was the evening before the big Halloween party, and the two-person pre-party was about to begin. Handcuffs had been fetched from downstairs and waited on the nightstand alongside a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Pietro and Clint had set up a strict “no peeking” policy for their costumes, meaning that while they had a general idea of what the other would be wearing (for coordination’s sake), they had yet to actually see each others’ costumes. Clint was in the bathroom and Pietro in the walk-in closet, getting ready for the big reveal. Pietro took one last look at himself in the mirror, gave his hat a jaunty little tilt, and opened the door a crack.

“You ready?” he called.

“Just about!” Clint shouted back. There was a few seconds pause. “Okay, I’m ready. Aaaaand, now!”

Pietro swung open the door and stepped out. He was wearing a cop costume, but the pants were absurdly tight and he had left the shirt open except for two buttons, showing off his muscled chest. He made it a few swaggering steps before he stopped in his tracks, his confident smirk changing to a look of slack-jawed arousal, and his already tight pants quickly feeling tighter. 

They had decided that Clint would be playing the role of jailbird, but what Pietro hadn’t expected was... well, essentially a rockstar. Clint was wearing a leather jacket over his bare chest, knee-high heeled boots, and the tightest leather pants Pietro had ever seen. His hair was gelled up into tousled spikes and he had put on a considerable amount of black eyeliner. Clint smirked, one eyebrow shooting up suggestively, and Pietro let out an aroused whimper. 

“Is there a problem, officer?” Clint purred.

He clicked a button on a remote and “Back in Black” by ACDC started playing on the stereo. Pietro darted across the room and grabbed the front of Clint’s jacket, pulling him roughly into a kiss. His hat toppled off, but he didn’t even notice. At last, they broke breathlessly apart, both a bit dazed by the sudden ferocity of Pietro’s kiss. 

“I think we’ve just set a record for the fastest I’ve given you a boner,” said Clint. 

“Well, have you seen yourself in those pants?”

“Yeah, and I knew _exactly_ what I was doing when I bought them.”

Clint grinned smugly, sending Pietro completely over the edge. He yanked the jacket from Clint’s shoulders and kissed him again, putting his arms around his waist and hoisting him up to take him to the bed. Clint wrapped his legs around Pietro’s hips and Pietro carried him over, lying him back onto the mattress before crawling up after him. 

“Sir, you are under arrest,” he said, taking the handcuffs from the nightstand.

He leaned in to kiss him again, then took Clint by the wrists and cuffed him to the headboard. He sat back and took off his shirt and pants before going to take off Clint’s boots, which turned out to be a bit more difficult than anticipated. When he finally managed to get both boots off, he turned at last to those magnificent leather pants. It would be a tragedy to take them off, but Pietro was so hard it almost hurt and the pants were all that stood between him and the gates of heaven.

He locked eyes with Clint and hooked one finger under the waistband of his pants, then slowly began sliding them down his hips. Just like with the boots, it was a bit harder to get the pants off than he had expected, but he finally got them off and tossed them onto the floor with the rest of their clothes. Pietro teased the tip of Clint’s cock with his lips, then trailed his tongue up his chest, pausing to suck a hickey onto his collarbone before reaching for the lube.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” Clint moaned.

Pietro slicked up his fingers and pushed his index finger inside Clint, finding his g-spot with expert speed. Clint gasped and clenched his fists around the chains of the handcuffs, then nodded to indicate he was ready for more. Pietro added a second finger and gently stretched him, preparing him. Clint groaned, his back arching.

“Okay, okay, just fuck me already,” he begged.

Pietro grinned wickedly.

“Is that any way to speak to a police officer?” he teased.

“Oooh, you are such a punk...” said Clint.

“Hey, I thought you were the punk today.”

Pietro moved his fingers inside him ever so slightly, making Clint squirm with need.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Please, officer, fuck me. Sir.”

Pietro didn’t need to be told again. He put on a condom and lubed up, then slowly sank inside Clint. He bit his lip, trying and failing to hold back the moan that slipped from him as he began to move in a steady rhythm. He wanted to make Clint come without ever being touched. He ran his hands up Clint’s torso and to his arms, feeling every muscle in those beautifully toned arms before he reached Clint’s hands and intertwined their fingers. 

At last, Clint fell apart beneath him, his head thrown back as he cried out his release. Pietro finished within seconds of him, gasping in satisfaction. He pulled out and stripped off the condom, then leaned down to kiss Clint.

“So, what d’you say you uncuff me and we can wrap up our little party with some cuddling?” Clint said.

“I’d like that,” said Pietro.

He sat up and reached over to the nightstand for the key, but it wasn’t there. 

“Uh oh.”

He got off the bed and started searching the floor.

“Shit...”

“Please don’t tell me you lost the key,” said Clint.

“We lost the key,” Pietro said.

“Well this is... awkward...”

“I’ll go find out if we’ve got any spares,” said Pietro. “And if not, I’ll get someone who can break you out.”

He grabbed his pants and started putting them on.

“I swear, my pants weren’t _this_ tight when I put them on earlier...”

“That’s ‘cause those are _my_ pants,” said Clint.

Pietro looked down and saw that Clint was right. He had grabbed the leather pants by mistake. 

“Damn, I can see why you got so turned on by those things,” Clint said, ogling at Pietro’s ass.

Pietro rolled his eyes and grabbed a throw pillow, tossing it into Clint’s lap.

“What was that for?”

“Just in case I have to get Stark,” Pietro said. “Don’t wanna scar him any more than necessary. He is taking us to a party tomorrow, after all.”

“Good point,” said Clint. “Now go get something to get me out of these things.”

Pietro ran out to the living room, where he found Tony and Sam, who both looked up when he entered the room.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Tony asked, staring shamelessly.

“They’re Clint’s,” Pietro replied. “I need some help.”

“Why does Clint have leather pants and why are you wearing them?” Sam asked.

“You’ll figure it out in a second,” said Pietro impatiently. “Stark, you know how Clint asked about the handcuffs this morning?”

“Yeah....”

“Is there a spare key?”

“Not available, why?”

“I lost the one we had and Clint is cuffed to the headboard.”

“Oh,” said Sam. “That’s why...”

Tony snorted, trying not to laugh.

“Lemme guess, you need me to break him out,” he said.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Exactly how naked is he right now?”

“Well, I covered the important stuff with a pillow before I left,” said Pietro. “But other than that, he’s really damn naked.”

Tony shook his head, still stifling laugher.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute.”

 


	5. This Party Blows (Up)

 

“Spending the whole night at a party with Tony is gonna be hella awkward after yesterday, I hope you realize that,” said Clint.

“Hey, I tried to salvage a little of your dignity,” Pietro said. “But you had to go and drop the pillow...”

It was the day of the Halloween party and they were adding the finishing touches to their costumes before heading out to meet Tony and Natasha. 

“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t dropped the key...”

Pietro rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t _drop_ it, I just don’t know where it went,” he said. “You ready?”

“Yup, hang on.”

Clint finished tying his boot, then they went out to the living room to meet up with the others. 

“Well, looks like I’m gonna be spending the night with the silly hat brigade,” said Natasha.

“I’m Sherlock Holmes, I’m supposed to be wearing a silly hat!” Tony said defensively. “And Barton’s Robin Hood, see? He’s supposed to wear a stupid hat too. That costume choice was a bit obvious for you, though, don’t you think?”

“Hey, if things go south, I’ve got my bow and arrows expertly disguised as a prop,” said Clint. “You won’t be complaining when I save your ass.”

“Whatever,” said Tony. “So the only stupid hat here that has yet to be explained is Maximoff’s. Exactly why does the feather have to be that huge?”

“I’m D’Artagnan. You know, from _The Three Musketeers_ ,” said Pietro. 

“Lemme guess, the sword’s real too?” 

“As a matter of fact-”

“Shut up before you embarrass yourself, you got it at Party City,” said Clint.

Pietro scowled and smacked him with his cape.

“What about you, Natasha, who are you supposed to be?” he asked.

“I’m... well, I’m Ariel from _The Little Mermaid_ ,” said Natasha, sounding slightly embarrassed. “Human version obviously...”

“Oooh, yeah, I see it now,” said Clint. “What’s wrong, Nat.? You look great!”

“Well, you guys are all dressed as literary legends and I’m just a Disney princess...” Natasha said.

“So?” said Pietro. “Ariel’s pretty awesome. I don’t see anything ‘just’ about it.”

“Besides, you’re a legend every other day of the year,” Tony added. “You deserve to be a princess for a night.”

Natasha smiled. It was a sort of shy little grin, so unlike her that Pietro was rather taken aback. 

“Thanks, guys,” she said.

Clint grinned and held out an arm for each of them to take.

“Anything for my princess,” he said.

Pietro and Natasha each took one of Clint’s arms and Tony groaned.

“Oh Christ, what is this? I’m, what.... fourth wheeling here?” he complained. “This is what my life has become. This is pathetic. I need Pepper.”

“Why do you need me?”

Pepper, Steve, and Wanda had just walked into the room.

“Can I sneak you into the party? These three are making me feel lonely,” said Tony.

“Aww, isn’t he cute?” Pietro teased. 

“I will not hesitate to shove that flimsy plastic sword up your ass.”

“Rude.”

“Sorry, honey, but you’re on your own,” said Pepper, giving Tony a quick kiss.

Tony sighed dramatically.

“You guys have fun at the party,” said Steve, obviously trying not to laugh. 

“And be careful,” Wanda added.

“We always are,” said Pietro.

“No you’re not,” Wanda and Pepper said simultaneously.

“Whatever.”

“Let’s get going,” said Tony. “Barton, you get shotgun. I don’t want you three having a make-out session in my backseat.”

 

***

 

They pulled up in the resort parking lot and got out of the car, readjusting their costumes before walking up to the front doors. They went inside and stepped up to the front desk, where a young woman was checking people into the guestbook. 

“Name, please?” 

“Tony Stark. I had four tickets, these are my guests.”

“And their names are?” the woman asked.

“Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, and Pietro Maximoff. Oh, sorry, that’s with two ‘f’s, not a ‘v’,” Tony said, watching her write down their names.

“Thank you, sir,” the woman said. “You can head on in.”

They left the lobby and started down the hall, following the signs to the ballroom.

“Stormfields is already here,” Tony said quietly. “Saw her name a few above ours on the list.”

“Good,” said Natasha. “Now we just have to remember to act casual when we run into her.”

“I’m guessing that’s directed at me,” Pietro said.

“Both of you,” Natasha replied, nodding to Clint as well. “You’re the only two she actually knows.”

“Didn’t you say you spilled tequila all over her at the club?” Tony said.

“Yeah, but she didn’t know who I was.”

They reached the ballroom and stepped inside. The party was already in full swing, dozens of people milling about, chatting and drinking, a few couples dancing to an eery lilting waltz in the middle of the room.

“Time to start mingling,” Tony said.

“Oh God, I hate mingling...” said Clint. “Oh look, a bar.”

“Want me to get you a drink?” Pietro offered with a knowing smirk.

“Thanks, babe, that would be great.”

“What do you want?”

“Jack and Coke. Double shot.”

“Anything for you, Nat?” Pietro asked.

“Gin and tonic, please,” said Natasha.

“Okay. Stark?”

“Relax, kid, you’ve only got two hands,” said Tony. “I’ll come with. You two go mingle, we’ll catch up.”

They parted ways, Clint and Natasha heading out into the crowd while Pietro and Tony went over to the bar.

“What can I get for you gentlemen?” the bartender said.

“Gin and tonic, double shot Jack and Coke, whiskey on the rocks, and whatever he wants,” Tony said.

“Vodka martini, please,” said Pietro.

The bartender nodded and went off to make their drinks. Pietro reached into his pocket for his wallet but Tony stopped him.

“No no, tonight’s on me,” he said. 

“Stark...”

“No, I’m not listening to any protestations,” said Tony. “This is my treat.”

Pietro rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome. See, that wasn’t so hard.”

“Hey, you were being nice a moment ago, don’t ruin it.”

Just then, the bartender returned with their drinks. Tony paid and they scooped up the glasses and went to find Clint and Natasha. They eventually found them on a sofa in the corner, kissing.

“That doesn’t look like mingling to me,” said Tony.

They broke apart, blushing, and took their drinks.

“I leave you alone for five minutes...” Pietro teased.

“Oh, like you’d be any better,” said Natasha.

“Soooo, aren’t we supposed to be looking for our friendly neighborhood bomber?” Clint said, sipping his drink.

“No need. She found us,” said Natasha.

Pietro turned and saw Leah approaching, wearing a slinky black gown.

“Here we go...” he muttered as she came to a stop in front of them.

“Well well well, look who didn’t blow up,” she said, glaring at Pietro and Clint.

“Yeah, we’re stubborn like that,” said Clint.

“I won’t ask how you survived,” Leah said. “Though I won’t deny I’m surprised you managed it, considering how easy it was to take you down.”

“Yes, we know all about how useless you think we are,” said Pietro. “Just get to the point. You came over here for a reason, and I know it wasn’t because you enjoy our company. So what do you want?”

“I want you four to leave,” said Leah.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I paid good money for these tickets,” said Tony. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh boohoo, you’re Tony Stark. Getting into this party was probably like spending two dollars for any normal person.”

“We’re not leaving,” said Pietro.

Leah sighed irritably.

“You really want to go through this again, kid?” she said. “Because I _will_ blow you up again.”

“You and what bomb?” Pietro challenged.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Leah said with a smirk.

Then she turned and vanished into the crowd. Pietro watched her go, then turned back to the others.

“So, there’s definitely a bomb,” said Natasha. “Question is, where?”

“And how soon is it rigged to blow?” Clint added.

“I’ll scan the premises,” said Tony, taking out his phone. 

“Do you think we should start an evacuation?” Pietro asked.

“Not yet,” Natasha replied. “We should definitely be prepared to at a moment’s notice, but let’s make sure we know what we’re dealing with first.”

Pietro nodded, though he couldn’t help feeling anxious. Quite frankly, he was sick of bombs and would really like to stop being stuck in the same building as them. 

“Well, there’s definitely a bomb,” said Tony, not looking up from his phone. “I haven’t located it yet, but there’s some pretty clear readings...”

“Any idea when it might go off?” Clint asked.

“No, but I’d be willing to bet it’s set for sometime tonight. All these rich, important people hanging out in the same hotel... it’s a little obvious.”

“Okay, Tony, you keep scanning for the location,” said Natasha. “Clint, Pietro... time to evacuate.”

She hiked up her skirts and climbed up onto a table, then clinked a spoon against the side of her glass to get everyone’s attention. The room went quiet surprisingly fast.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid I have a rather unpleasant announcement to make,” she said. “My name is Natasha Romanoff, though you might know me better as the Black Widow. My friends and I are part of the Avengers Initiative, and we’re here tonight on an important mission. Unfortunately, things have progressed much quicker than we had hoped and, for your safety, I’m going to have to ask all of you to vacate the premises and get as far away from the building as possible. Hopefully we’ll be able to get the situation in hand quickly and efficiently and the party will be able to continue as normal. Now if you would, please calmly file out into the parking lot. Thank you for your cooperation.”

She turned and hopped down from the table and the room slowly began to empty, a quiet buzz of conversation floating from the crowd. 

“That was amazing,” said Pietro, thoroughly impressed.

“That was nothing,” Natasha said. “We’ve still got a bomb to deactivate, remember?”

“Any luck finding it, Stark?” Clint asked.

“No, but I did find a jet just chilling in the woods out back,” said Tony.

“A jet?”

“Yes, a jet, but we’ll deal with that later.... oh shit.”

“What is it?” Pietro asked.

“Well, I managed to hack into the bomb’s software-”

“That’s possible?”

“Shut up, yes it is,” said Tony. “Anyway, it’s set to go off in three minutes. And I still don’t know where the damn thing is. Or things, I should say.”

“There’s more than one!?” Clint said.

“Well, it’s a big hotel...”

“Hang on, if you can hack into it, can’t you just turn it off like that?” Pietro asked.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Tony said. “You’ve got to have the right codes, which I don’t, so we’ve got to shut them down manually.”

“Okay, everyone split up,” said Natasha. “If you don’t find anything in two minutes, get the hell out.”

 

They all hurried off in opposite directions. Pietro knew he’d be able to cover more ground than any of the others, but it was still a very big hotel and stairs did tend to slow him down a little. By the time the two minutes were up, he’d found nothing. Frustrated, he ran out to the parking lot where the rest of the party guests waited, muttering anxiously to each other. Pietro was the first of them out, but a few seconds later, Tony arrived. 

“I have a feeling Natasha’s dress is slowing her down,” he panted, taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair.

Pietro frowned, watching the front door of the hotel and glancing nervously at the time. Just then, Natasha showed up next to them, having apparently come out through another exit.

“Nothing?” Tony asked her.

“No... Clint’s not back yet?” Natasha said.

“No he’s not, and it’s getting really really close to being three minutes,” said Pietro, starting to pace.

“He’s probably on his way right now,” said Tony.

Pietro looked back down at his watch and bit his lip.

“Fuck this, I’m not standing around here waiting for him to die,” he said.

“Pietro, wait!” Natasha said.

She grabbed Pietro’s arm to hold him back. He pulled his arm away and turned to run back inside, just as the explosion went off. Panic tore through him like a knife and he bolted forward before Natasha or Tony could stop him. Inside the hotel was like an inferno; there was fire and smoke everywhere, debris crashing down around him, but he ignored it all. He had to find Clint. He ran through the wreckage, calling Clint’s name, hoping desperately that he was still alive. He found himself back in the ballroom and skidded to a halt, something metal catching his eye. He bent down and found a single black arrow, the fletching slightly singed, but still achingly familiar. 

“Clint...”

He was too late. This was all that was left. Pietro swallowed back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t break down, not yet. The hotel was still coming down around him and if he stayed much longer, he’d be crushed. He stood back up and took a deep breath, the arrow still clutched in his hand, then ran back out to the parking lot. Natasha and Tony were waiting for him, both looking distressed.

“You _idiot_ , don’t just go running into exploding buildings like that!” Tony scolded.

“Where’s Clint?” Natasha asked.

“I wasn’t fast enough,” said Pietro quietly.

He held out the arrow to her. Natasha stared at it a moment before taking it, eyes wide in disbelief. Pietro sank down onto the curb, buried his face in his hands to muffle his sobs. He felt a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Tony sitting on the curb beside him. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony said.

“He’s not dead,” said Natasha suddenly.

“What do you mean, he’s not dead?” Pietro asked. 

“Well, he didn’t die in the explosion at least,” Natasha continued.

“How is he not dead?”

“This isn’t a regular arrow,” said Natasha.

“Are any of them?” Tony said.

“This is a message arrow. You can record messages and... shoot them to people, I guess,” Natasha explained. “I never really saw the practical use of them before, but... Clint left this for us to find.”

“Play the message,” said Pietro, scrambling to his feet.

Natasha pressed a little button on the side and Clint’s voice began to play from the arrow.

“Hey guys, I hope this thing doesn’t blow up before you can hear it. Anyway, you know that jet Stark mentioned? It’s Stormfields’. And I’m stowing away on it. Hopefully I’ll find some shit out while I’m here. So you’ll probably need to save my ass if she doesn’t kill me first. Nat, Pietro, I love you. Stark... please don’t let Pietro do anything too idiotic. See you all soon. I hope.”

The message ended and Pietro laughed giddily in spite of himself.

“He’s alive,” he said. “Oh my god, he’s alive. And oh my god, he’s an idiot, a huge fucking idiot. How can he even tell me not to do anything stupid when he’s just gone and done _that_?”

“We need to get back to the Tower,” said Natasha. “Clint’s smart, but there’s only so long he can hide before Stormfields finds him. We need to alert the rest of the team.”

 


	6. Deal With The Devil

 

Pietro, Natasha, and Tony stepped out of the elevator and into the living room where the rest of the Avengers sat around, playing cards and waiting for them to get back. As they walked over to the others, Steve looked up.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“Well, we got everyone out before the hotel exploded,” Tony replied.

“Where’s Clint?” said Wanda.

“He stowed away on Stormfields’ jet and is now being whisked away God knows where,” Natasha said.

“Shit...” said Sam.

“He’s an idiot,” Pietro said, sitting down next to Wanda. “If anything happens to him, I swear I’ll kill him.”

“Have we got any way of tracing the jet?” Steve asked.

“I tried,” said Tony. “It’s got some pretty strong stealth capabilities. She’ll find Barton long before I manage to break in and trace it.”

“Mr. Stark?” said FRIDAY the AI. “You have an incoming video message from a blocked number.”

“Play it,” said Tony.

The television on the wall turned on and FRIDAY started the video. Leah Stormfields was on camera and just behind her was Clint, tied to a chair and gagged. He didn’t seem to be hurt, just frustrated.

“Hello there, Avengers,” Leah said cheerfully. “Look who I’ve got. I found this little rat hiding away on my jet. Now what would he be doing there, I wonder? Oh yeah, spying for you nosy bastards. But now he’s mine and I can do whatever I want to him.”

She smirked at the camera, then went and sat on Clint’s lap. She pulled the gag from his mouth and kissed him roughly. Clint squirmed and tried to pull away but she held tightly to a fistful of his hair. Pietro felt jealous, disgusted anger boiling in his chest as he watched from the sofa. Finally Leah let Clint go and gagged him again, then turned back to the camera.

“I _am_ gonna give you a chance to get him back, however,” she said. “I mean, I know all about how devoted you are to him, Quicksilver. It would be such a shame to part you two forever.”

She stood up and came to stand directly in front of the camera again. 

“I propose a little trade. A deal, if you will. I’ll give you Hawkeye if you give me a very specific file. I’m sending the details of the file along with this video. As for the when and where of our trade, I’ve got that all worked out too. There’s a gala this Saturday in D.C., lots of rich and important people, very ritzy. I’ve managed to acquire four tickets to this event. Two for me and Hawkeye. The other two for you, Quicksilver, and one companion, if you agree to my deal. I’ll send you the tickets and information on the gala if you agree. All you have to do is reply to this message with a simple yes or no. If you do take me up on my offer, then we’ll meet at the gala and make the exchange. But if you try any funny business, or if I discover that you’ve tried to give me a fake file, I will not hesitate to blow that party to kingdom come with all of us still dancing. I look forward to hearing from you.”

She blew a kiss to the camera and the video ended. 

“I’m going to that gala,” said Pietro, his voice quivering with anger.

“Hang on, shouldn’t we find out what it is she actually wants from us before agreeing to anything?” said Bruce.

“FRIDAY, can you show us the details on the file she mentioned?” Tony asked.

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

She brought up the document about the file.

“Well, shit,” said Steve.

“What?” Pietro said, a little too far from the screen to read the tiny text.

“She pretty much wants every scrap of information about the various ways we all became superheroes,” said Steve. “Blueprints for the Iron Man suit, Banner’s research on gamma radiation, anything we’ve got about Erskine’s serum and Hydra’s experiments on you and Wanda...”

“What the hell could she want with all that?” Rhodey said. “Does she think she can build Avengers 2.0 with her terrorist buddies or something?”

“If that _is_ what she wants that information for, she’s incredibly stupid,” said Natasha. “Loads of people have tried to replicate the Iron Man suit and failed. Bruce practically died becoming the Hulk. We’ve got virtually nothing on the super soldier serum. And the fact that Pietro and Wanda got powers from Hydra’s experiments, let alone survived, was, well... either a miracle or pure luck.”

“Plus we’ve got no info on what exactly Hydra did to them,” Sam added.

“Even if we did, she’d be stupid to try any of it,” said Wanda. “Those experiments weren’t exactly enjoyable.”

“Honestly, the fact that most of us became superheroes by almost dying is a pretty good indicator that that would be a spectacularly awful plan,” Tony said.

“You know,” said Pietro thoughtfully. “Maybe giving her this file isn’t such a bad thing. Yeah, she’ll have the research and the blueprints and all that, but like you guys said, trying to use any of it would be beyond stupid. We let her and her friends have just enough information to think they can succeed, then sit back and watch them self-destruct.”

“Pietro Maximoff, you just might be a genius,” said Tony.

“Seriously?”

“I said ‘might’, kiddo, don’t let it go to your head.”

“But you really think it’s a good idea?” said Pietro.

“Hell yeah, I do,” Tony said enthusiastically.

“It’s risky, but it’s also the most foolproof way we’ve got to save Clint,” said Natasha. 

“Cap, you’re in charge,” said Pietro. “Should I accept the deal?”

“Do it,” said Steve. “And Stark, start compiling that file.”

 


	7. Deal Or No Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay in updates. this is what happens when i double task with fic writing.

 

The week sped by and Saturday arrived. They had a bag packed with all the tech and weapons they could possibly need, their outfits for the gala were in a garment bag in the back of Natasha’s car, and Tony had finished putting together the file. 

“I specifically left out a few little details here and there,” Tony said, handing the drive to Pietro. “Nothing Stormfields will notice. But just enough to make sure they don’t actually manage to replicate any of this stuff.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? She said she’d blow us all up if we faked any of it,” said Pietro.

“What, like she’s gonna be able to tell just by looking at the drive?” said Tony. “By the time she realizes I tampered with it, you guys will be long gone and she’ll have probably just blown up one of her friends.”

“Oh, that’s very nice,” said Pietro sarcastically. “I’m gonna go now.”

“Good luck,” Wanda said, coming over to hug him.

Pietro hugged her back and kissed the top of her head before letting go. 

“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

***

 

Four hours later, Pietro and Natasha arrived in D.C.. They stopped at a gas station to top off the car and get changed in the bathroom. They got back in the car, Pietro in a tux and Natasha in a slinky black gown, and drove to the gala venue. They parked and got the bag of supplies from the back seat. Pietro wasn’t usually one for weapons, but he stuck a gun and some extra ammunition into his breast pocket just in case. He put the drive in his other jacket pocket, then looked over to see that Natasha had taken the other gun, a knife, and several pieces of tech from the bag.

“Where the hell are you sticking all this stuff?” Pietro asked.

“Ladies’ secret,” Natasha replied with a wink.

“Seriously though, that dress is like cellophane and you’d never know you’re hiding an arsenal up your skirts. How are you doing it?”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Well yeah, but you’re still gonna tell me how you managed this before the night is over.”

“Whatever, let’s go.”

They got out of the car and went up to the front door, where they gave the doorman their tickets and went inside. There was a lobby and a short set of marble stairs leading up to the ballroom where the party was taking place. Pietro offered Natasha his arm and they climbed the stairs.

“Okay, at the first sign of Stormfields and Clint, we make contact and then get the fuck out, got it?” Natasha said under her breath.

“I certainly don’t need telling twice,” said Pietro. “Want a drink?”

“Need one is more like it,” said Natasha.

They went over to the bar and ordered drinks, then went to sit where they could keep an eye on the rest of the party.

“You know, it’s kind of annoying that she didn’t give us a specific meeting time,” said Natasha. “It’s sorta ‘rendezvous 101’. Not to mention common courtesy.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a terrorist, they’re not exactly known for being courteous,” Pietro said.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks and combing the crowd. After a while, Pietro got bored, so he fished the cherry out of his glass and tried to tie a knot in the stem with his tongue. 

“If you choke on that thing, I’m not giving you CPR,” said Natasha.

“Wow, thanks.”

“Also, you’re making ridiculous faces.”

“Oh yeah, well guess what?”

Pietro triumphantly held up the cherry stem, which had a little knot in it that was barely hanging on.

“Very impressive,” said Natasha, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. “Let’s go dance.”

“I don’t wanna dance,” Pietro said.

“Too bad. Stormfields is bound to be here by now but we’re not gonna find her by sitting in a corner.”

Pietro sighed and got up, following Natasha out onto the dance floor.

“I don’t know how to dance, you know,” he said.

“Just follow my lead and keep an eye out for Stormfields,” said Natasha.

She placed his left hand on her waist and took his right hand and started to sway to the music. Pietro had to admit this wasn’t so hard, but he still felt rather awkward doing it. The song had just ended when Pietro caught sight of Stormfields and Clint standing near the edge of the dance floor.

“Found them,” he said.

“Let’s go finish this then,” said Natasha.

They left the dance floor and met them over in a corner, away from prying eyes.

“Oh look, Clinton, your girlfriends have come to rescue you,” Leah teased.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Natasha.

“You’ve got my file?”

Pietro reached into his pocket and held up the drive.

“Right here,” he said. “Now give us Clint and I’ll hand it over.”

“You’re free to go, Hawkeye,” said Leah, giving Clint a poke in the ribs.

Clint scowled and went to stand between Pietro and Natasha.

“Now give me the file,” said Leah.

Pietro held it out and she took it.

“Buh-bye, suckers,” she said.

She gave them a little wave, then left, vanishing into the crowd. Pietro let out a sigh of relief and turned to Clint.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” said Clint. “What the hell was on that file?”

“Information on the Avengers,” said Natasha. “But don’t worry about that right now, let’s just get out of here.”

“Jesus Christ, guys, seriously? I am _not_ worth that,” Clint said. 

“Yes you are,” said Pietro. “You heard Natasha, let’s go.”

“We can’t go yet,” said Clint.

“We made the trade, we’re done here.”

“No, we’re not,” Clint insisted. “There’s a bomb.”

“Yeah, in case we didn’t hold up our end of the deal, but we did, so let’s go,” said Natasha.

“There was no deal,” said Clint. “It was a trap. She was just trying to get Pietro here. She wants to get back at us for what we did to Charles. She wants to finish what she started back in Boston. She wants to kill us.”

 


	8. Well, Somebody's Ass Is Getting Kicked

 

“Fuck.” 

They had come all this way just to die. And Natasha could have lived, Stormfields only wanted to kill Pietro and Clint. But now they’d all blow up, along with the hundreds of people at the gala. 

“We’re fucked, we’re all gonna die...”

“No, we’re not. We can stop this,” said Clint.

“Oh yeah?” Pietro said, his voice an octave higher than usual out of panic. “How do you know she’s not just gonna flick a switch the moment she’s clear of the building?”

“Because I’m a damn good spy and I know approximately where the bomb is and how it’s guarded,” said Clint. “So calm your tits.”

“It’s guarded?” Natasha said. “Do you know how many guards?”

“Not exactly,” Clint replied. “But between the three of us, taking them out should be a breeze.”

“Are you sure about this?” Pietro said.

Clint put his hands on Pietro’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“Absolutely sure,” he said. “We’ve beat worse odds before. So are you ready to kick some ass?”

“I’m always ready to do that,” said Pietro, letting a little smirk sneak its way onto his lips.

“Then let’s go.”

 

Clint led the way through the crowd and into a hallway, coming to a stop outside an elevator. He hit the down button; they only waited a couple seconds before the doors opened and they stepped inside. Clint pushed the button for the basement and the doors slid shut.

“The basement,” Pietro muttered. “Why is it always in the basement?”

“Take out the foundations, the whole building is more likely to go down,” said Natasha.

“That was a rhetorical question,” said Pietro.

Clint rolled his eyes. 

“Have you guys got weapons and shit?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Natasha replied.

“You don’t happen to have any extras, do you?”

Natasha handed him a gun. Where she pulled it from, Pietro couldn’t figure out.

“Seriously, Nat, you’ve got to tell me how you’re hiding all this shit,” he said. 

“When designers decide your gender don’t need pockets, you start to get creative,” said Natasha, now loading a second gun that Pietro once again had no idea where she’d kept it.

“I’ve asked her at least a dozen times and I still haven’t gotten a real answer,” said Clint. “So that’s about the best one you’re gonna get.”

Pietro chuckled and pulled out his own gun as the elevator jolted to a stop.

“Ready?” Natasha said.

“Ready,” Pietro and Clint said in unison.

Then the doors slid open. There was a split second of calm as the doors opened out onto the corridor, lined with armed men, and Pietro, Clint, and Natasha stood on the threshold. Then they burst out of the elevator with guns blazing. They mowed down the first few men with ease, having caught them off guard, but after that, they had to put up more of a fight to get passed them. They were about halfway down the corridor when Clint pointed ahead.

“That door,” he said. “It’s through there.”

“I’ll go take care of it,” said Natasha. “You two finish up with these goons.”

She bolted off, expertly taking out any of the men who tried to stop her. Pietro and Clint kept fighting their way down the hall. They had both long since run out of bullets and had to rely on nothing but their fists. Pietro knocked down a guy and turned just in time to see Clint crumple to the floor, unconscious.

“Clint!” 

Pietro ran to his side, completely forgetting that he was still surrounded by enemies. He didn’t even see the metal bat aiming right for his head.

 


	9. The Obligatory Car Chase Scene

 

Pietro groaned as consciousness slowly returned to him. His head throbbed, and he was pretty sure he had both a concussion and a lump the size of a baseball. He opened his eyes.

“Aw shit.”

He was in the back of a van with blacked out windows, tied up back to back with Clint. There were three men sitting around in the back of the van with them, one sitting shotgun, and the driver of course. The rumble of the engine and jostling of movement told him they were probably speeding down a busy road, headed off to god knows where. 

“Pietro? You awake?” Clint asked suddenly.

“Yeah,” Pietro replied. “Are you okay?”

“Apart from being kidnapped yet again? Yeah. You?”

“About the same.”

“Hey,” said one of the men standing guard. “You two shut up.”

“Or what?” Pietro said.

He could practically hear Clint rolling his eyes.

“Or I’ll knock you on the head again,” the man said, fingering the handle of the metal bat at his side.

“Fair enough,” said Pietro.

“Our boss is gonna be thrilled when we bring you two to her,” one of the other men said. “Blowing you up would’ve been pleasure enough, I’m sure, but I know she’d have a lot more fun killing you herself.”

Pietro’s heart skipped a beat. The gala. The bomb. _Natasha._ Had she managed to disable the bomb in time? Or had she and all the party guests been blown to kingdom come? He could tell from the sudden tension in Clint’s shoulders that he was thinking the exact same thing, but neither of them dared to ask. Suddenly, the whole van jolted forward violently.

“What the fuck was that?” one of the men demanded.

“We’ve got company,” the driver replied, gritting his teeth and slamming on the gas.

Pietro looked over his shoulder at Clint.

“Natasha,” Clint said, grinning.

There was a gunshot and the sound of shattering glass as the driver’s side mirror was blasted off the side of the car. Pietro grinned as the men guarding them turned their attention to their weapons and glanced around for something they could use to cut themselves free. A glint of metal caught his eye and he noticed a knife in a toolbox just a little out of his reach. He made to scoot toward it just as Clint tried to move the opposite direction.

“Dammit, Clint, what are you doing?” he grumbled as the ropes dug into his arms.

“Trying to get that box of nails so we can cut these ropes,” said Clint. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get that knife to do the same thing,” said Pietro.

“Oh. Well. Yours is better. You lead.”

“Okay, on three,” Pietro said. “One, two, three.”

They started inching along toward the toolbox. Pietro could nearly reach it with his feet when something collided with the side of the van, throwing them onto their sides. The toolbox toppled over, spilling its contents everywhere. The knife skittered across the floor toward Pietro’s face and he just barely caught the handle between his teeth. 

_Shit. Now what?_

“Did you get it?” Clint asked.

“Err...... kinda,” Pietro replied.

“....It’s in your mouth, isn’t it?”

“Yeah...”

“Brilliant.”

Pietro rolled his eyes. He tried for about three seconds to figure out what to do next before giving up and letting the knife drop to the floor again.

“Fuck it, I’m doing this the hard way,” he muttered.

“The hard way?” Clint echoed. “What’s the hard way? Pietro, what are you doing?”

Pietro didn’t bother answering, focusing instead on trying to wriggle his way out of the ropes. Or at least just one arm so he could actually use the knife. After about half a minute of struggling, he gave up again and growled in frustration.

“Clint, you’re the master spy here, you should know how to get yourself untied,” he said impatiently. 

“Yeah, I do, but usually I’m not tied to the squirmiest man in existence,” Clint said.

“...Sorry....”

“It’s whatever, I just got my feet untied.”

“What good is that gonna do?”

“Not much. Have you still got the knife nearby?”

“Yeah, it’s right by my face.”

“Okay, we’re gonna try and move so we can maybe catch the rope on the blade and maybe slice through a few layers so we can break free,” said Clint. “And hope we don’t stab ourselves in the process.”

“Great plan. Really foolproof,” said Pietro sarcastically.

“Shut up, like you’ve got a better one.”

Pietro couldn’t argue with that. He scooted toward the knife, holding his breath as though that would make him impervious to stabbing, and tried to do what Clint suggested, but every time he got close the knife would spin away. 

“It’s not working,” he said. “Wait, hang on, I have an idea.”

He moved just a little farther so that the knife was closer to where his hand was pinned to his side. He reached with his fingertips and inched the knife toward him until he was able to grab it.

“Aha!” he exclaimed.

“Did you cut it?” Clint asked.

“No, but I got the knife.”

Readjusting his grip on the handle, Pietro began to saw away at the rope. The angle was horrible and made his wrist ache, but he ignored it and forced himself to keep going until finally he broke through. He dropped the knife and quickly worked his way out of the tangle of rope, then grabbed the knife again to slice the rope around his ankles. He and Clint both got to their feet and burst into action. 

Clint dove into the front seat and knocked the man riding shotgun unconscious on the dashboard, then kicked the driver straight out the door and into the street. He hopped into the driver’s seat and took the wheel. Pietro ran at the other three men, taking the first two out before they even knew what hit them. The third man was ready for him and raised his gun, firing three shots that Pietro dodged with ease. Pietro noticed Clint watching nervously in the rearview mirror.

“Eyes on the road, old man!” he said, taking the gun from the man and tossing it over his shoulder.

“If you weren’t getting shot at, it would be easier to focus,” Clint said.

“Just get us out of this damn van,” said Pietro.

“You want out of the van? Okay, we’ll get out,” said Clint. “I’m pulling up alongside Nat’s car. Open the sliding door and jump out, then get in the backseat and leave the door open. I’ll join you once you’re clear.”

“What are you gonna do?” Pietro asked.

“You’ll see.”

Pietro slammed the man into the wall of the van. The man crumpled to the floor and groaned. Pietro turned away and slid open the left passenger door. Natasha’s corvette was racing alongside them, dented in several places from hitting the van. 

“See you in a minute,” Pietro said to Clint.

Then he hopped out onto the road. It was barely any effort for him to keep up with the corvette and climb into the back seat.

“Thanks for the lift,” he said brightly as he slid into the seat behind Natasha.

“You just gonna leave that door wide open?” Natasha said.

“Clint told me to.”

“Fuck, not again.”

“What?”

“I know what he’s gonna try,” said Natasha. “And last time he broke his leg, his arm, and his tailbone and was unconscious for three days.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Pietro turned frantically back toward the van to see that the driver’s door was open and Clint was perched on the edge of the seat, hanging halfway out the door while still driving. Pietro glanced ahead. Clint was aiming the van straight for the huge cement pillar of an overpass. He had probably a five second window before he crashed. If he didn’t jump soon....

“Shit,” Pietro said. “Shit shit shit. I can’t watch, I can’t...”

Clint jumped. He just barely managed to grab the door of Natasha’s car, which swung inward. He ducked inside and Pietro lunged forward to pull him onto the seat as the door slammed shut, narrowly avoiding crushing Clint’s fingers. A second later, the van careened into the pillar and burst into flame. Natasha sped past the explosion and up the onramp to the freeway. 

“Dammit, Clint, I thought I told you never to try that stunt again,” Natasha scolded.

“Well, it was broken bones or death,” said Clint. “Looks like I escaped with neither.”

“You’re still a fucking idiot,” Pietro said.

“Ah, gimme a break, guys, I’ve been kidnapped twice in one week,” Clint said. “I need a nap. And pizza.”

“I’m assuming since you lived to save our asses that you stopped the bomb,” Pietro said.

“Yes, I did,” Natasha replied. “But I had to fight off a few more of Stormfields’ cronies since you two didn’t finish them off like I told you to.”

“Sorry, Nat, we were busy getting concussed and tied up in a van,” said Clint.

“You’re really milking this whole kidnapped thing,” said Pietro.

“Well, how else am I gonna get a nap around here?”

 

 


End file.
